


When Lions Roar, Wolves Howl and Dragons Soar

by LordWinterfyre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:44:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordWinterfyre/pseuds/LordWinterfyre
Summary: At the end of Robert's Rebellion, Ned Stark was able to arrive at King's Landing in time to save Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Not only that, at the Tower of Joy Lyanna lived and was married to Robert. Now, years later, Robert is dead, leaving only a daughter. Stannis, who was married to Cersei, wants the Iron Throne.





	1. Chapter 1

Ned I

The northern entourage poured through the Dragon Gate in a river of grey, black, and polished steel, three hundred strong, a host of bannerman and cavalry, of sworn swords and freeriders. Over their heads a dozen different banners fluttered in the gentle breeze of King's Landing, chief among them the grey direwolf on a white field, the sigil of House Stark.

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, was somber as he rode at the head of the column as it moved through the Gate, flanked by his eldest son, Robb, and Greatjon Umber. Somewhere behind him, the rest of his family, with the exception of his sons Rickon and Jon, and most of the rest of his principle bannerman rode in behind him. Rickon was too young, and a Stark must always be in Winterfell, and Ned wanted to keep Jon as far away from King's Landing as possible. It was not a joyful reason that brought the North to King's Landing. Indeed, it was a day Ned hoped not to face for many years. His childhood friend, King Robert Baratheon had passed away just under three months ago. It had taken those three months to come down from Winterfell to pay their respects, and to sort out what comes next.

As the column moved through the Gate, Ned saw a familiar face waiting for him. The broad shoulders, blue eyes, and beak nose of Jon Arryn would stand out even if he wasn't surrounded by banners flying the Arryn blue falcon. At the same time he almost seemed like a stranger. The last twelve years, since the death of Ned's sister, Robert's wife, had not been kind to Lord Arryn, the late King's Hand. He looked tired, almost haggard, and was beginning to show his age. "Ned. By the gods it's good to see you," Jon said as Ned got close. "You haven't changed at all."

"It's good to see you too Jon, I wish it was under better circumstances," Ned replied. Jon just nodded solemnly.

Before either of them could say anything more Robb approached as the rest of the column rode on to their accommodations. "Ned, is this your eldest," Jon asked in a amazement. "Aye, Jon. Robb, say hello to Lord Arryn, my foster father. Jon, this is my eldest son and heir, Robb." Robb bowed and offered his hand to Jon. "It's an honor to meet you Lord Arryn, my father has told me nothing but good things about his time in the Vale." Jon laughed. "I never knew your father to be a liar," Jon said to Robb before turning to Ned. "He looks more of Cat than of you, Ned, but I can still tell he is yours. It's the earnest look in his eyes." Jon paused. "Well, come on then. Best we get you settled before all the commotion starts."

Jon turned his horse and motioned it forward, Ned fell in next to him, with Robb a respectful distance behind the two old friends. "Aye, what happened to Robert. What has been happening since? Is the Princess ok? Why hasn't she been crowned?" Ned watched as Jon simply nodded. "We can't talk too much out here, we don't know who is listening. Suffice to say, Robert's death is a complete mystery. Your sister's death demoralized him to be sure, these last few years especially. But he was still, by and large, healthy. Then, one day, he was gone. Since then," Ned leaned in as Jon looked around and quieted his voice. "Lord Stannis has been making noises about taking the throne. The Lannisters are, of course, backing him. It's taken all I have to call this council."

For the first time in generations a Great Council had been called. All the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms were gathering to decide who would rule. In theory anyone could be named. Practically speaking it would either be Robert and Lyanna's daughter, Lyarra, who has just barely seen her twelfth name day, or Robert's brother, Stannis, who had married Cersei Lannister at the end of the Rebellion. Lyarra had the stronger claim by blood, but would anyone follow a young girl?

"Of course, your ward isn't going to make things any simpler," Jon added. Ned thought of his ward, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. She was back riding with the rest of Ned's family, either in the wheelhouse or on her horse.

Ned could still remember the day he saved her life. After winning the Battle of the Trident, where Robert killed Rhaenys's father, Ned took two thousand of his Northern cavalry and rode hard for King's Landing. He wanted to be the one to kill the Mad King. He didn't make it in time to kill the King, Jaime Lannister had that privilege, but he did arrive in time to prevent Gregor Clegane from raping Elia Martell and killing Rhaenys. He was too late to save Prince Aegon, and Elia would die of her injuries, but Rhaenys was saved. For days after, until things could calm down, the little girl wouldn't leave his side. She clung to him like another piece of armor.

When Robert arrived he was furious that a Targaryen still lived. Ned was furious that Robert condoned the murder and attempted murder of children. It was only after Jaime Lannister personally guaranteed Rhaenys safety that Ned felt he could leave her.

And it was fortunate did left when he did. Ned was able to relieve the siege and Storm's End with little difficulty and, in so doing, prevent more blood shed, including the life of Mace Tyrell, whom Stannis Baratheon had wanted to execute as a traitor. More importantly, he was able to ride to the Tower of Joy and save his sister. Three King's Guard and five of his six companions died in the fight, but Lyanna was saved.

 _She isn't the only one_ , Ned thought to himself. With Lyanna saved, Ned returned to King's Landing and made peace with Robert. Robert wed Lyanna and Ned returned home with Rhaenys and Jon, the child the world thought belonged to Ned. _Robert can never know_ , Lyanna's words to Ned that day rang in Ned's mind now.

Rhaenys grew up. She matured in a pretty young woman with the looks of a Martell. She had black eyes and hair, a slender build, and olive colored skin. And though Ned and Catelyn tried to do the best they could for her, she remained a quiet, reserved, almost sad young woman. Perhaps it was no wonder her and Jon had become so close. Despite making them welcome, despite the North adopting both of them, they were still both outsiders, Rhaenys especially. _At least Jon doesn't know the truth,_ Ned thought to himself. 

“No, she won’t. I imagine Dorne is already jockeying for her,” Ned said quietly. "Of course, they are. The fact she is a woman is of no bother to them and we can't exactly say she is a woman and then turn around and argue for the Princess." Ned nodded quietly thinking. This would get complicated quickly.

They said no more until they had safely arrived at the Tower of the Hand. Along the way, they had stopped to allow Ned's family and retinue to get settled. Jon had a warm reunion with Catelyn and took pleasure in meeting Sansa, Bran, and Arya. Ned told Cat he had business to attend to with Jon and he would see her before the feast tonight. Stannis, it seemed, was throwing a feast both in remembrance of his brother and to celebrate the beginning of the Council, scheduled to begin in a fortnight.

Jon had wanted to go right to his Solar, but Ned insisted on seeing his niece and he had been glad for it. She was a perfect mix of his sister and Robert. Dark hair, grey-blue eyes, and a fierce spirit. _She and Arya would get along great,_ Ned chuckled to himself. They got re-acquainted and Ned promised he would look in on her later.

With that done, Ned went with Jon to his Solar to get the full story and plan their next steps. Just hearing the summary on the ride here had him nervous. "Do you think it was poison Jon," Ned asked almost immediately after the door closed. Ned watch Jon ponder the question. The silence did nothing to calm Ned. "Perhaps. I cannot say for certain." That was enough for Ned. "I want some of my men to help guard the Princess. No one will harm my niece, Robert's and Lyanna's child." Jon nodded. "I figured that. In truth, I would appreciate it. I don't trust all of the Kingsguard and my men can only be there so much." Ned felt his head jerk almost involuntarily at the announcement the Kingsguard could be coopted. Jon could see what Ned was thinking. "Let me explain. Over the past several years, Stannis and his Lannister kin have gotten a great deal of influence here in King's Landing and at Court. It includes appointments to the Kingsguard. I trust Ser Barristan, but after that I'm not so sure. And it's not much better on the Small Council. Stannis as Master of Laws and Jaime Lannister as Master of Coin, the two most powerful seats on the Council, after the Hand, and they belong to those two." Ned took a moment to sip the wine he had been handed and think. "What happened to Stannis? He was never the most warm individual and Robert had no great love for him, but you make it sound like he is a traitor."

Jon shook his head. "Traitor, no. I don't count him a traitor, that is unless Robert was murdered. As for what has happened to him. Cersei Lannister happened to him. She got her claws into him and fueled his resentment towards Robert. He still believes in duty and honor, but not like he used to. Not true duty or true honor." Ned took another sip of his wine. He again thought of all those years ago, after the Sack of King's Landing, when he returned to the city with his sister. He remembered the look on Tywin Lannister's face as Robert rushed to Lyanna's side and forgot all about his Cersei. Ned had heard Cersei was positioned to become Queen, or had been until Lyanna returned alive. Instead, Cersei was married off to Stannis and shipped to Storm's End. Jaime Lannister of relieved of his white cloak and shipped back to Casterly Rock to marry and have children. It wouldn't be until years later that Stannis returned to serve as Master of Laws and Jaime returned to serve as Master of Coin.

"We need to do something about this then. You said the Small Council is divided, what about the Kingdoms. The North and the Vale will back Lyarra, true," Ned said and was relieved when Jon nodded emphatically. "I went to war for you and for Robert. I won't fail Robert's daughter. Not now." Ned smiled. "Am I also correct the Stormlands and Westerlands support Stannis."

"Aye," Jon nodded grimly. "What of the rest," Ned asked. "Our goodfather, Hoster Tully, has sent Edmure, along with his betrothed, and Ser Brynden to the city to represent the Riverlands. Ser Edmure tell me the Riverlands stand with us, but Ser Brynden has told me it's not complete." "You mean the Freys," Ned responded sourly. "Of course I mean the Freys. They have ties to the Lannisters and are no friend to Lord Hoster. Still, I think the Riverlands fall to us." Ned nodded for Jon to continue. "Despite the presence of Edmure's betrothed, the Iron Islands fall into Stannis's camp. Tully may have Asha Greyjoy, but Stannis, or rather Tywin Lannister, has Theon Greyjoy."

Ned remembered the settlement at the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion. Tywin would take Theon, Balon Greyjoy's only living son, as a Ward and he would be wed to an Eastermont girl when they came of age. Until then, the Iron Islands were under the care of Tywin Lannister's brother Kevan. Asha Greyjoy, Theon's sister, was sent to the Riverlands, though. It wasn't planned, but Edmure and Asha had become quite the pair and all reports truly in love. _Any child they have would have a claim,_ Ned thought to himself. It was something to keep in mind.

"The Crownlands appear to be edging to Stannis. Dragonstone follows Renly. Renly is...unknown at the time. Dorne, you already know about. That leave the Reach." Ned was troubled by Renly, he knew that Renly loved his niece, what was he playing at. "Dorne, I believe, will resolve itself," Ned said with a small smile while Jon looked at him quizzically. "I've had the opportunity to speak with Rhaenys on the way here. Indeed, long before that. She does not desire the throne. I believe if offered she will reject it." Ned watched as Jon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That would resolve Dorne. Still, they may choose to simply withdraw, but neutrality is better than opposition." Ned nodded again. "What is this about the Reach now," Ned asked.

"The Tyrell's are playing their own game. I don't think I need to tell you they possess the largest single force in the Kingdoms. They could tip the balance," Jon said as he looked out at the afternoon sun. "Aye, but Mace Tyrell has to know Stannis hates him. If the Tyrells support him…" "The Tyrells, I believe, are content to wait and see how things develop. Betting that if Stannis gets desperate, he will have to give them something." Ned just nodded and took another drink of wine.

They sat and planned, but before long it was time for the Feast and Ned had to get back and get ready.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhaenys I

The room was alive with music, talk, and merriment. All around Rhaenys everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, well maybe with the exception of Lord Baratheon at the head table. He looked as grim as ever. From time to time people, especially those from the North and Dorne, would come up to her and tell her how pretty she looked and Rhaenys would smile and say thank you. They had no idea, could have no idea that this was torture to her. For all over her life, people looked at her differently. They told her she looked just like her mother. That she was kind and sweet and gentle. She also heard the stories of how her father kidnapped Lyanna Stark, had raped her, and helped start a war that ended with her father killed and mother murdered. It was those times that her blood, her Targaryen-Dornish blood, boiled. Up until three months ago, she was a the child of a dragon and of a snake in a land of wolves. She was an outsider. Yet, Lord and Lady Stark had done the best they could with her. She loved them and believed they loved her. But she was still an outsider.

 _Jon is the only one who understands,_ Rhaenys thought to herself. She was so consumed with thoughts that she didn't even notice as Sansa and pretty young girl with brown hair and large brown eyes approached her. Sansa was wearing a fine, if conservative, grey dress, while the other young woman was wearing a gorgeous green and gold dress that clung in all the right places and had small roses stitched in along the seams. "Princess," Sansa said formally, "I'm sorry for interrupting, but their is someone who wanted to meet you." "Sansa, dear, you needn't be so formal. We're practically sisters," Rhaenys said softly with a warm smile on her face. Rhaenys watched as Sansa blushed "Of course, I'm, I'm sorry. Anyway, this is Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell." Rhaenys smiled as the brown hair beauty approached and curtseyed perfectly. "Your Grace." "It's a pleasure to meet you m'lady," Rhaenys responded with a nod. "Would you care to join me? Both of you?" Rhaenys said to both girls. They smiled and sat down.

Rhaenys was happy for the company and Sansa was always a sweet girl, following her around Winterfell and attempting to be the perfect southron lady. However, before a conversation could start, a servant appeared and requested Sansa's presence. Rhaenys watched as Sansa was led over to Lord and Lady Stark for what looked like a serious conversation. Rhaenys couldn't focus too much, though. She felt Margaery trying to get her attention. "Your Grace, Lady Sansa has been kind enough to tell me about life in the North, at Winterfell. It all seemed so bleak to me, until she told me of its beauty. You're family is from the South, but you grew up in Winterfell. What is it like for you?" _Well that's a loaded question, if ever there was one._ "The North is hard, my lady, but that is what gives it the beauty Lady Sansa described. The people don't have the same luxuries of the South. So they rely on each other. The warmth they have comes from their families and friends. North is, in my opinion, the most beautiful of the Seven Kingdoms for that reason alone," Rhaenys responded with a depth of love that not even she knew she had. _Maybe I'm not such an outsider, after all._ "Well, when you put it like that, it does sound lovely. What of Lord and Lady Stark, what of Sansa's kin." Rhaenys suddenly realized their was more to this conversation than idle curiosity. Rhaenys was old enough to know what was going on. She had heard the stories even before the Northern host had arrived in King's Landing. Their was to be a Great Council and the Tyrells were fishing for information. _If this girl is half as smart as she is beautiful, she will be formidable in the future. On the other hand, I suppose a few tidbits wouldn't hurt._

"The Starks are a kind, fair, honorable family, Lady Tyrell," Rhaenys responded simply. "Oh please, Your Grace, call my Margaery," the brown haired maiden responded with a little too much sweetness in her voice. Rhaenys smiled. "Very well Margaery, but then you must call me Rhaenys. At least when it's us girls," Rhaenys said. Margaery smiled back. "As for Lord Stark," Rhaenys continued after a moment, "I think he would sooner die than break an oath. Lady Stark is a good and dutiful wife. Despite not being from the North, she has adapted well. She and Lord Stark are a wonderful couple and I think he trusts her council." Rhaenys saw Margaery nodding.

"I see, what of the Stark children? Besides Sansa that is," Margaery asked. Rhaenys caught Margaery eyeing Robb from across the room. Rhaenys smiled. _Perhaps it's more simple than I originally thought._ "Robb is looks like his mother, but acts like his father. He has a keen sense of honor and justice. He will make an excellent Lord of Winterfell one day, Lord Stark's bannermen already respect him a great deal. After Sansa is Bran, he is a sweet boy, but stubborn and curious. Arya is after that, she looks more like a Stark than any of them. She, I'm told, is like her aunt Lyanna, strong and fierce. Lastly, Rickon is a small babe, and was left in Winterfell."

"You seem to care for them a great deal," Margaery said sincerely. "Yes, it seems I do." Rhaenys smiled again, feeling her olive cheeks flush. "You know, I doubt you would believe this, but Robb is an excellent dancer," Rhaenys said with a laugh. "You jest," Margaery responded with a laugh of her own. "I do no such thing. Lady Stark insisted that her Northern children would have some Southron refinement. She said that if Robb would learn to handle a sword, he would also learn to dance." "Perhaps I shall have to find out for myself," Margaery replied, Rhaenys seeing a mischievous glint in the girl's eye. Rhaenys simply waived her hand and watched as Margaery stood up, adjusted her dress, and began moving for the Stark heir.

Rhaenys's smile was just fading when she heard footsteps behind her and a quiet voice in her ear. "Be careful with those ones, especially the women, they will pour honey in your ears and sing sweet songs, all the while robbing you blind," the voice, a familiar voice, said. "Hello uncle," Rhaenys said dryly. Her Uncle Oberyn was one of the best fighters in the realm and one of its most mysterious. "My dear, have you been well since we last saw one another," Oberyn asked. "I'm very well, thank you. The Starks continue to be wonderful hosts." Oberyn grunted. He had never, completely, accepted the idea of being parted from his beloved sister's only living child. It was only a promise by Lord Stark to care for Rhaenys as if she was his own child and to allow Oberyn to visit whenever he chose that finally pacified the Red Viper.

As a result, Oberyn, his lover, and his children had become fairly frequent guests at Winterfell. It had also lead to warmer relations between the North and Dorne. Trade was up and both regions were prospering. Rhaenys had smiled in that regard, she liked to think her presence had helped both her mother's homeland and her adopted home.

"Good. I'm serious, though, the Tyrells are playing the same game as the rest of us right now. Even the Starks from what I've heard, Lord Stark huddling with the Hand all afternoon," Oberyn asked. "I'm sure they were just catching up," Rhaenys responded feigning ignorance. "Come now, niece, you're smarter than that." Rhaenys smiled. "She didn't seem so bad. She's playing the game, for sure, and playing well, but their was some sincerity in her voice," Rhaenys replied.

"Mayhaps. Now tell me. Will you allow me to put your name forward for the throne? You have the strongest claim. You should be Queen, not one of those Baratheon usurpers. I'm sure Lord Stark could be brought around," Oberyn replied. Rhaenys laughed. "Despite all your time at Winterfell, you clearly still do not know Lord Stark." Oberyn looked at her. "That doesn't answer the question, though. Allow me to make you Queen." Rhaenys shook her head. "Please don't uncle. I've thought a lot about this. I don't want to be Queen. I would have accepted marrying Robert's son, out of duty, but he didn't have a son."

"You would choose your own destiny then," Rhaenys uncle asked? "As much as I am able," she replied quietly. Oberyn smiled. "You will have whatever is in my power to give, dear girl. If you do not want to be Queen, you won't be. Is there someone else, a boy, mayhaps, that influences this? " Rhaenys blushed, but remained quiet. "Very well, my sweetling, keep your secrets. Let's talk about something else then," Oberyn replied with a smile. "Like who Dorne should back, mayhaps," Rhaenys replied sweetly. "Well, since you bring it up, yes."

"You can't seriously consider supporting Lord Baratheon. It would mean the Lannisters ran things," Rhaenys said as she felt her Targaryen-Dornish blood as she thought about the prospect of Tywin Lannister having more power. "Indeed, but not supporting Stannis is different than supporting the Princess," her Uncle replied. Rhaenys felt herself grew quiet for a moment. "Lord Stark is a good man, I trust he would help his niece become a good Queen. If I were Uncle Doran, I would have Dorne support Princess Lyarra." Rhaenys watched as her uncle nodded and gently stroked his black beard. "Well then, I guess I should discuss the matter with Lord Stark then."

Rhaenys was just looking back across the Hall, seeing Margaery's path to Robb being blocked by a young man with golden hair, green eyes, and an arrogant smile. Rhaenys couldn't hear what was being said, but Margaery looked frustrated, bordering on angry. When Rhaenys saw the young man grab Margaery, before she could do anything, Robb moved in an in one swift move grabbed the young man and punched him in the face. Suddenly the music stopped and swords were drawn. Tyrell and Stark men ready to square off against Baratheon and Lannister men. At that point, her uncle grabbed her and pulled her out the room. She didn't hear any commotion, so she was pretty sure no one was killed or maimed.


	3. Chapter 3

Margaery I

Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of Highgarden, sat at the table waiting to break fast with her family. It had been an eventful few days on the eve of the Great Council and her family needed to make a final plan on who to back for the Iron Throne. When she was a little girl, she dreamed of become Queen, but as she got older she realized that was all it was, a dream. Her father still talked about it, but her father had never been the smartest person, a kind, wonderful father, but never the brightest. Fortunately, it seemed her brother Willas, heir to Highgarden, had not inherited their father's intellect. Margaery didn't think the family could survive two generations of dullards.

Before long, Olenna Tyrell, Margaery's grandmother and the real head of House Tyrell, came hobbling in on a cane, gathered a plate of food, and sat before looking at anyone. "Mother," Mace Tyrell, Margaery's father and Olenna's son, said with some frustration, "why am I being told I am meeting with Lord Stark this afternoon. We agreed that-." "No Mace, you agreed to your brilliant plan to 'remain neutral.' A plan that will only ensure that no matter who rules the realm, House Tyrell will continue to be a pariah."

"Well then, mother, what would you have us do," Margaery watched her father as if he was a petulant child and cringed at what the response would be. "I think we should back Renly," Loras, her brother chimed in. Everyone at the table turned to face the Flower Knight, except Grandmother, Margaery noted. Loras has been Renly's squire. And more. "Ha! My dear boy, that is, quite possibly, the only idea worse than your father's," Olenna responded as she took another bite for fruit. "Why? Renly would be a magnificent King. Margaery could marry him and-" "Margaery will not be marrying a man who has a worse claim than all the rest. In order for Renly to be King, Stannis, and Stannis's two sons and the Princess would have to suddenly disappear. Renly Baratheon, Castellan of Dragonstone, will be lucky if he has any titles left by the time this is over." Olenna didn't suffer fools, Margaery remembered, not even from a grandson.

"Mother, you've been very good at telling us what we shouldn't do," Mace said, "You still haven't given us an alternative." "The Princess, I believe, or rather, the Starks," Willas said from his position to the right of Mace. Margaery swore she saw a smile form on her Grandmother's face. Margaery, of course, knew what Olenna's plan was. She had been sent on a mission to learn about the Stark's first hand, to see if Olenna's plan was feasible. For Willas to put it together, well, it just reaffirmed Margaery's earlier opinion.

Unfortunately, Mace still didn't see it. "She is a young girl and they're savages." Olenna didn't see phased at all. "She is a young girl who has the support of four kingdoms and the Starks are an old family with the loyalty of their people. They have the loyalty of many people, most of the support for Princess Lyanna comes through the ties to the Starks. But, perhaps Margaery could tell us more. She spent some time with them last night," Olenna turned to her. Margaery blushed slightly.

Margaery remembered the events of last night quite vividly. The feast had been a fairly normal, dancing, food, music. She had approached Sansa Stark, who had immediately become a entranced by Margaery's Southron ways. She learned all she could from Sansa before using her to meet Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Everyone, it seemed, looked on the Starks as honorable people. Margaery was especially touched by the Princess's description of the North. It seemed charming in a certain kind of way, she never heard that description from any Southron. It made her want to visit and see for herself. She also liked the description of Robb Stark.

She had seen him earlier during the feast and, if she was being honest with herself, he was quite handsome. If Rhaenys's description of his honor was half true, Robb Stark would be a prize catch for any young maiden. She was on her way over to him when things took a turn.

It started when Tybolt Lannister, the son of Jaime Lannister, confronted her and wouldn't let her go. "Hello Margaery," he said stepping directly in her way. "Hello Tybolt," she replied with a smile. They had been introduced when they were younger. Rumors had flown about a possible betrothal, but it came to nothing. Last she heard, he was betrothed to a Westerling. "How are you," Tybolt asked stepping in front of her as she tried to go around. "Quite well, but if you will excuse me," Margaery had replied as she took a step to get around him, only he moved to block her. "And what if I won't, my cousin is going to be King and my grandfather Hand. So what if I won't excuse you," Tybolt said. He had a smile on his face, but no warmth behind it. Margaery's glance drifted to Robb and she say his eyes catch hers. He was sitting at a table with a cousin and other Northmen, sipping from a goblet but she could see him begin to focus his ice blue eyes on her as if he was a wolf and she was his prey. She didn't seem frightened though. "Well," Tybolt said as he moved even closer to her, grabbing her arm. Margaery could see Robb get up from his table after whispering something to his relative who nodded in return after looking toward Margaery. She watched as Robb came closer and closer to her. "I'm still waiting, Margaery. How you would like to entertain me," Tybolt asked in her ear, still not realizing Robb Stark was walking up behind him. "Please, Tybolt. You're hurting me." Her last sentence was loud enough to be heard by Robb who quietly nodded at her before bumping into Tybolt, spilling his wine on him.

As a result of the sudden introduction of red wine onto Tybolt's fine red and gold doublet, Tybolt released Margaery and turned around to see who had done that. "Who did that," he screamed. Robb smiled for a moment, "I'm very sorry my lord, I tripped over a stray board." Margaery could see the rage in Tybolt's eyes. "Damn Northern savage. Learn how to walk," Tybolt hissed as he dabbed himself with a cloth he had picked up. All the while, Robb was quietly moving to put himself between Margaery and Tybolt. "Wait a minute, you're the Stark heir, aren't you," Tybolt said finally looking at Robb. "I am Robb Stark, son of Eddard, Lord of Winterfell, yes. And who might you be," Robb replied calmly. "Ha! You're clearly as ignorant as you are clumsy. I am Tybolt Lannister, son of Jaime Lannister, grandson of Tywin Lannister and I can't wait for my Uncle to be crowned so all you Northern beasts go back to the frozen waste you call home."

Tybolt has always been arrogant, but he was clearly drunk as well and Margaery was worried for Robb. She knew Tybolt had a hot temper and learned how to fight from his father. She had seen him fight, both with the sword and fist, and knew what he could do. She could also see Robb clench his teeth. "Well Tybolt, son of Jaime, we beasts have a saying. Don't count your chickens before Winter is over," Robb replied. Tybolt just looked confused as Margaery watched him come toward her again. Robb stepped in front of her, so as to block his attempt to come closer.

"Oh, I see what's going on Stark. Do you have a little boyhood interest in our dear Margaery. Well, why don't we settle all of this right now," Tybolt said as he pushed Robb a little. Robb, to his credit, did nothing. "You and I can fight, here or outside, swords or no, and the winner's side is crowned and gets Margaery." "She is no piece of property to be won, Lannister. Your lord father must not have taught you honor and the proper treatment of a lady. Then again, I doubt a Kingslayer who lost his white cloak had any to begin with," Robb's words struck deep and Margaery could see fire behind Tybolt's green eyes.

That was when it happened, Tybolt swung a fist as Robb who quickly blocked it. Not only did he block it, in the same swift motion, he swung his own first and knocked Tybolt to the floor, leaving him with a bloody nose. Robb immediately turned to Margaery and apologized, going from wolf to lamb as he stammered. It was really quite endearing. Of course, the moment was broken as every sword in the room was drawn. At first the Tyrells didn't know who to aim their swords at, but word spread of Robb's actions and soon it was North and Reach aiming at Westerland and Stormland, everyone else caught in the middle. Robb, meanwhile, moved to Margaery behind him, using his body as a shield.

Cersei stood in an uncoiled rage, "Guards! Arrest that boy! I want him in chains!" The Northman began closing ranks, daring any Lannister to get close.

Margaery, in that moment, realized what Sansa and Rhaenys had been talking about. She could see into the eyes of the Northman, they were ready to die to protect Ned Stark's son and their future liege lord. It was more than just loyalty, it was love. Fortunately, it didn't come to that.

"My lords," an older man with a crooked nose shouted in the silence. He was flanked by Ned Stark and Edmure Tully. That must be Jon Arryn, Margaery thought to herself. "Surely a small scrap between two boys at a feast is not something worthy of bloodshed." "The boy just attacked my blood, Lord Arryn. My lord husband is the Master of Laws," Cersei shot back as Margaery could see hands tightening on swords.

"I will deal with my son, my lady. I would leave it to his father to deal with your nephew," Lord Stark said loudly. Margaery turned back to the head table where the doar Lord Stannis Baratheon was sitting. Her eyes were soon joined by everyone else's. "I have your word, Lord Stark, your boy will be appropriately dealt with," he asked. "You do, Lord Baratheon," Ned Stark replied. "Then take your boy and go, when I am King I may be less merciful," Stannis replied.

By that point Tybolt had gotten up off the floor and placed his hand on Robb's shoulder as he walked by. "This isn't over Stark," Margaery heard him whisper. Robb shooked Tybolt's hand off and whispered back. "Indeed, Lannister." As Robb stormed out of the room the swords were sheathed and the music began again, the guests resumed drinking and talking, but Margaery didn't stay.

She ran after Robb, she wanted to thank him. She found him in the Godswood, his gloved hand on the bark of a Heart Tree. I forgot they follow the Old Gods, she thought to herself as she silently watched him. It was a full moon and she could clearly see him as he knelt in front of the tree. It was something peaceful. She made up her mind to leave him be. To speak with him later, she was just backing away when she stepped on a branch. The sound echoed in the silent night and Margaery looked down cursing herself. When she looked back up, Robb was staring right at her.

"Lady Margaery?" Robb was clearly confused. She looked at herself, now covered in mud, her fine dress torn in several spots, the cool night air blowing on exposed skin. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to...to say thank you. For what you did." Margaery, normally cool and composed, suddenly found herself blushing and out of her element. She took a second, but regained her composure and hoped Robb hadn't noticed in the dark. She looked back at Robb and saw a wry smile form on his handsome face. His smile was, even in the darkness, inviting and she took another step toward him. "Are you alright," she asked standing close to him, lifting herself on her toes.

"I'm fine, my hand hurts a little," Robb replied. Margaery laughed despite herself. Robb continued, "I'm more concerned about what my father will say." "If it will help, I will tell him you were quite gallant, defending me and all." Robb looked down on her for a moment and leaned in a little closer. "My Lady, why were you coming toward me? You seemed quite determined," Robb asked gently.

"Oh, I was coming to introduce myself and see if you wished to dance," Margaery replied. "I hear you're quite able." "You've been talking to Princess Rhaenys, I see," Robb replied with a smile. "Mayhaps. Nonetheless, is it true?" Robb took a step back and held out his hand. Margaery accepted it and they danced, softly, quietly. At the end, Margaery was forced to admit Robb was a tremendous dancer. It was about then Garlan, her middle brother, appeared and escorted her away. Robb bowed, and said goodnight. It was a wonderful evening.

Margaery was brought back to the present by a cough from a smiling Garlan. "Well, young lady, what's this about spending time with the Starks," Mace asked. "I had the opportunity to spend time with Sansa Stark, Princess Rhaenys, and Robb Stark. All of them are very kind and loyal. Robb is, especially gallant, and a good dancer." Mace huffed. "He may be a good dancer, but what kind of savage strikes another man at a feast," Mace puffed even more. "Father, I know you had already left, but Robb Stark was protecting Margaery. Tybolt Lannister grabbed her and Robb, without hesitation, intervened. If he hadn't left, I would have thanked him and so should you," Garlan said.

"Which brings us back to why you are meeting with Ned Stark," Olenna interjected. "You, Mace, are going to meet with Lord Stark to thank him for his son's actions and inform him that you are in his debt and his son is an honorable fellow. You're then going to _suggest_ an alliance between House Tyrell and House Stark, an alliance that will almost guarantee the Princess will be crowned." Margaery watched as Mace thought for a moment, then it seemed what Olenna had been hinting at had finally dawned on him. "Intriguing, of course, you always say alliances are paper are worthless. We would need a union in blood." Mace looked at Margaery who maintained her composure. _I could do worse than Robb Stark,_ she thought to herself and suddenly she became very happy.

"Ah son, perhaps there is hope for you yet. Just don't mess up this meeting."


	4. Chapter 4

Cersei I

Cersei fumed as she paced back and and forth in her quarters as if she was a caged lion. She could not believe her lord husband had refused her like he had last night. After it happened she refused to speak with him and, when they returned to their quarters, she refused to sleep in the same bed as him. She woke up angry and was still angry, even now as her family sat and talked. Everyone was there, everyone was ignoring her. Even her nephew, Tybolt, had seemingly cooled from last night.

“Last nights little...outburst seems to have pushed the Tyrells into the Stark camp,” Tywin, Cersei’s father said looking squarely at Tybolt and Cersei as he did. “It’s no bother, Mace Tyrell was never going to support us. He was a traitor during the war and remains a traitor. I still say my brother should have hung him and his family as traitors. Let Ned Stark have him,” Cersei’s husband replied.

“Perhaps, but we need allies and we are running thin. We could have sought to wed Joffrey to Mace’s daughter. We need to make agreements with some other houses outside of our domains,” Cersei’s father replied. Cersei had seen this before, debates between her father and her husband, it was like watching a storm batter a rocky shore, neither could gain ground and both refused to quit. “Dorne may still be in play, but if we can’t secure them, we need to start looking at trying to peel off some of the smaller houses,” Tywin continued. Cersei watched as Stannis ground his teeth in frustration.

Cersei had been planning this course of action for years, Stannis didn’t know it of course. He would never consent to murder, let alone the murder of his brother. By the time Robert had died, Cersei had ensure Stannis hated his brother, but Stannis still loved duty and loyalty. _Ugh_ , Cersei thought to herself. That’s why she took care of things on her own. After ensuring Stannis was well positioned within King’s Landing and under her control, she simply arranged for Robert to consume poison. It would never be traced back to her and it moved the process along. Or so she thought, she never expected to have to remove the Princess, as well.

Cersei had practically begun moving into the Red Keep when that old man, Jon Arryn, managed to prevent Stannis’s coronation. _How could a girl, let alone one barely passed her twelfth name day rule_ , Cersei and Stannis had argued. Better to let Stannis become king and Lyarra could be given lands somewhere to ensure she was taken care of. Stannis would even see her married to a loyal family, which meant Cersei would see her married to a distant relative from the Westerlands. _One of uncle Kevan’s sons perhaps. But no, that damned fool of an old man managed to convene a Great Council._ The thought alone made her even angrier. As she paced, Cersei began to formulate more plans.

“What of your brother, can he be promised anything,” Jaime asked with a crooked smile. “My brother has no decency, but, perhaps if I granted him Dragonstone. He could even marry the dragonspawn,” Stannis replied. Cersei saw Tywin give a slight nod. Cersei herself was relieved, originally, she thought she might have to have her precious Joffrey married to that whore, but it seemed her husband was even more opposed to the idea than her. 

Stannis might not have been the most warm and caring husband, but Cersei did appreciate his forthrightness and his commitment. She didn’t love him, would never love him, but they were stable. _Better Stannis than that whoremonging brother Robert_ , she thought to herself not for the first time. Stannis had given her three wonderful children, and now, the prospect of being Queen. With help from me, of course. She would stop at nothing to secure that goal for her and her children.

“It’s a start,” Cersei’s father responded. “Joffrey will also need a wife, so will Tommen, and Cassana a husband.” Tywin was looking at Cersei as he said it, causing her to blanche. But continued, turning to Jaime “Tybolt’s betrothal will remain, but Joanna also needs a husband, and your younger children betrothed.” Now it was Jaime’s turn to lose his color, he loved his golden haired daughter almost as much as Cersei loved her children. “What do you suggest,” Stannis said showing no emotion at the prospect of using his children and his good brother’s children as pawns. “There are countless houses who would welcome a match with either a Lannister or a Baratheon and a few that are disaffected with their liege lords. I suggest we target those houses. If we can peel off support from the liege lords, they will be forced to come around lest they face a rebellion from their own lands,” Tywin responded. “I suggest, of course, we be extremely particular with Joffrey. He will be the biggest prize.” Stannis gave a nod.

“As you say, it’s a start. Lord Lannister, when I am crowned, I intend to name you Hand,” Stannis pronounced. “Thank you, Lord Baratheon. I would be my honor,” Tywin responded. “I don’t do this to honor you, I need an able administrator and you are that. To that end, I trust you in these matters. I give you authority to find marriages for my children and do whatever is necessary to secure the Iron Throne for me.” Stannis sounded more like he was giving a command to storm a castle than permission to arrange marriages. “Of course, my lord. It will be done,” Tywin replied. Tywin stood to leave and motioned for Jaime to leave with him, leaving Cersei alone with her husband.

“You are still mad at me for last night,” Stannis said staring at Cersei. She knew him well enough, it wasn’t a question. “Of course, I’m furious! That mongrel, northern, savage struck my nephew, our nephew, and you let him walk out of there,” Cersei practically spat. “That ‘mongrel’s’ father is one of the most honorable men in the realm. Beyond that, from my vantage point it, it looked as if our nephew started the altercation by grabbing the Tyrell girl,” Stannis responded in the same low voice as ever. It infuriated Cersei. “Oh please, the Tyrell whore clearly provoked him. She probably wanted to instigate the whole situation.”

“I don’t have time for this. You, my lady, may believe whatever you want. But, when I am King, do not expect me to dispense justice based on favoritism. It will be dispensed based upon my view of right and wrong. Now, I have a meeting with Eastermont. I will be back before dinner.” Cersei watched as her husband got up and left without a further word. 

Cersei was continued to stew the next half an hour when she heard a knock at the door and a servant stuck her head it. “Excuse my lady, there is Lord Petyr Baelish here to see you. He did not have a meeting so I told him he would have to come back, but he insisted and said you’d want to meet with him.” “Oh really, he is mistaken. What could give that imputent jumped up brothel manager the idea I would meet with him,” Cersei asked more to herself than the servant. “He said to tell you ‘many people weep in Lys, but it’s rare occurrence here.’ I don’t know what he meant by that though.” Cersei’s face contorted with confusion for a moment, then she understood. _How could...bastard._ “Well I suppose I should see what he means then, see him in and then close the door.”

A moment later a short, slender men with a small beard on his chin appeared. He remained quiet, even after the servant left. She will have to be removed, Cersei thought to herself. “You wanted to see me Lord Baelish,” Cersei said as she sat down and invited the man known as Littlefinger to join her. “No thank you, my lady, I would prefer to stand,” the man said with a humorless smile. “As for why I am here, why my lady, I thought that would be obvious based on my message.” 

Cersei smiled now, though it was more like a lion showing its teeth. “I’m afraid I didn’t have any idea what you meant by that. I allowed you entry so as to inquire. I’ve never been to Lys so I couldn’t comment on people crying there.” “I see, well in that case, you have no need of my services then. I would like to speak to your husband about a matter though, I think he would be interested given his role as Master of Laws,” Baelish replied, again with a humorless smile. Now Cersei clenched her jaw, “what do you want.” Cersei’s voice was barely audible. “Why my lady, only to help you,” Petyr said as he apparently changed his mind and sat down. “You need to be more careful, while I doubt anyone else has figured out the King has been murdered, let alone you did it, you still need to be more careful. I can help you.” “I see, now, I assure you I do not know what you are talking about, but playing along with your infantile game, how could you help me, why would you help me, and what would you want in return,” Cersei said regaining her composure. 

“In return, I would simply want a place on your husband’s small council, perhaps a better title, and a small commission for my work. As for what I can do, I already found out about your handiwork, I also have retainers placed throughout the city who tell me the comings and goings of a variety of people and are skilled in many things.” “I see,” Cersei replied, “and why?” “My reasons are my own, and I will not share them. If that is a deal breaker, I will at least keep your secret for a small fee. Oh, and should I suffer an accident or suddenly fall ill, I’ve taken steps to make sure this allegation and evidence to support it is released to all interested parties,” Petyr said calmly, “Including your husband.” Cersei smiled again, Seven Hells! “That won’t be necessary Lord Baelish, a Lannisters always pay their debts. I’m sure I can arrange for the title and commission. As for the small council position, I will speak to my lord husband and father at the time my husband is crowned. It will be up to them to judge your work.” Petyr seemed to consider the offer for a moment and nodded. “Very well. I will let you know if I hear anything. I will also begin working on possible strategies to influence the Council,” Petyr said as he stood up. “See that you do,” Cersei replied.


	5. Chapter 5

Ned II

 

_Gods I need a break_ , Ned thought to himself as he rubbed his eyes from exhaustion. The day, so far, had been a whirlwind, between further discussions with Jon Arryn, meeting with his retinue to thank them for their defense of his son last night, and reading letters from home he had worn himself out. To make matters worse, he still had a full afternoon of meetings, including two peculiar meetings that appeared on his schedule just this morning. The first, set to begin shortly, was with Prince Oberyn Martell. The second, and even more intriguing, was with Mace Tyrell. Both were powerful men. The Red Viper, as the Martell was known, was not only a proficient warrior, but also a man of intrigue. Most important to Ned, at the moment, was the fact that Oberyn was leading Dorne’s delegation as a whole and spoke for House Martell at the Great Council. _I’m guessing he wants to discuss Rhaenys and the throne,_ he thought to himself. 

Ned would listen, but he would not abandon his niece, no matter how much he cared for his ward. The Tyrell, though, he had no idea. Both Jon and he thought that the Tyrells would attempt to extort some sort of promises for support, but would come around to Lyarra eventually. _If only because Stannis on the throne would be hard for the Tyrells. Stannis and the Lannisters would be devastating._ Mayhaps Mace was coming with his demands. It was early, though, for that. Then again, Mace was never the best strategist.

As if by magic, a knock came as the door opened and his guard announced Lord Oberyn Martell was waiting for him. “Thank you, Jory. Please show him in,” Ned said. A moment a tall, dark skinned man, with a small black beard stood before him offering his hand in friendship. _Gods their is no mistaking that he and Rhaenys are related_ , Ned thought as he accepted the Red Viper’s hand. They knew each other of course, Oberyn and his children had become an almost regular feature of Winterfell. However, they had never become friends, they remained formal and distant, even when sharing meals. Ned understood why, but that didn’t make it any easier to be at ease with him.

“Lord Stark, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Oberyn said with a bit of flourish. “And you, Prince Oberyn. Though, I was a little surprised to see you had requested an appearance,” Ned replied motioning for Oberyn to sit and offered him a glass of wine. The Dornishman did so and took a sip of the wine, allowing the silence to remain for another moment. 

“I suspected you would be surprised, Lord Stark. I had come to King’s Landing for justice, to put Rhaenys on the Iron Throne where she belongs.” Ned remained quiet, just listening to the fiery man say his peace. “However, when I spoke with her at the feast, she informed me she doesn’t want to be considered. As you can imagine, I was quite disappointed,” Oberyn said. “If you are suggesting, Prince Oberyn, I somehow influenced her, you are quite mistaken,” Ned replied coldly. “Oh no, not at all. I apologize, in fact, if I made you think that,” Oberyn said. “At first, I did wonder, but looking in Rhaenys’s eyes I could see this was her decision. I suppose, I can’t be too surprised. This city took her mother and her brother.”

_If he isn’t here to talk about putting Rhaenys on the throne, what does he want_ , Ned thought, now truly confused. Oberyn must have noticed Ned’s perplexed face because he continued. “Rhaenys wishes for Dorne to support Princess Lyarra’s claim. I intend to follow her wishes.” Now Ned moved from confused to utterly shocked. Before Ned could say anything Oberyn added even more. “Of course, with some...consideration, of course.” Now Ned came back to the moment. _Does no one do anything simply because it is the right thing in this Gods forsaken city?_ “I see, well Princess Rhaenys, as I’m sure you know, has always been a quiet girl. I must thank her for her support, though. However, I am wondering, what ‘consideration’ did you have in mind?”

Oberyn smiled and took another sip of wine. “My brother has decided it’s time for Dorne to become more involved with the Realm. As such, we would need a spot of the Small Council.” “I will speak with Jon Arryn, but I believe that can be arranged. Anything else,” Ned replied. “Families are important, Lord Stark, you’ve cared for part of mine for fifteen years. In many ways, she is as much a part of your family as she is mine. Perhaps it’s time to formalize that arrangement.” Ned let one his eyebrows rise. “As you know, Dorne is not like many of the other Kingdoms. Women are allowed greater say in the rule of the realm. My nephew Trystane and your younger daughter, Arya, would make a good match.”

Ned was quiet for a moment. There was value in tying the Martells and Starks together with a marriage, but Arya was still very young and wild. Though, she may do well in Dorne, though. He had seen Oberyn’s eldest daughters had been trained as warriors. _Perhaps it would work. Cat will kill me._ “I will have to speak with my wife and daughter, but I have no objection to it. However, the wedding would have to wait until Arya is older. I would also have your nephew spend some time in the North.”

“Of course, of course. I think all of that can be arranged, as long as we have a promise in place. I think Trystane might enjoy the opportunity to spend time in the North.” Ned held out his hand again, “I will let you know when I have an answer for you. I hope, though, for Princess Lyarra’s, sake we can make this work.” “So do I,” Oberyn replied. “I know you have a busy day, and I have a similarly busy schedule. I will leave you to yours. Thank you, again, for seeing me Lord Stark. I look forward to working with you more closely.” With that Oberyn got up and walked out of the room without looking back.

Ned was left alone with his thoughts as he ran his hand through his hair. Had he really just implied his youngest daughter would marry a Martell? Even more shocking, had Dorne agreed to back the Starks regardless of that promise? Things could not get more strange than that. Could they?

Ned got the answer soon enough, when Mace Tyrell appeared before him. Ned offered him the same seat he had offered Oberyn Martell and the same drink, as well. Ned took a small sip while Mace was the first to broke the silence, “Lord Stark, first I wanted to thank you for your son’s noble actions last night. I’ve spoken with my sons and daughter, along with many of my bannerman. They all tell me your son, Robb, protected my daughter without a second thought.”

“Thank you, Lord Tyrell. I will pass on your thanks. While my son’s actions were not well thought out, I’m glad to know he was acting for a worthy cause, at least,” Ned replied sincerely.  
“Of course. Tell me, is he betrothed? Robb, I mean,” Tyrell asked, dropping all pretense. Ned couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was as if he was reliving earlier in the day. Only this time, even more shocking. Gods by good, what is going on in this city. “No, Lord Tyrell. Robb is not betrothed. Why,” Ned played along for a moment. “Well, it occurs to me, that if Robb was willing to protect my daughter out of nothing but common decency, he would certainly be worthy of marrying her. She told me that after the...incident, they spoke and he continued to be very noble.” Ned nodded slowly while the Tyrell prattled on. “Yours is a proud and noble house and their are many similarities between yourselves and House Tyrell.” Ned was having trouble thinking of any, but he allowed the Lord of the Reach to continue further. “Of course, their are added benefits to an alliance between our houses as well.” Now, Ned finally spoke. “I suppose there would be, any child produced, for example, would be related to Princess Lyarra.” 

“Indeed, Lord Stark, indeed. We would have an interest in making sure she was on the throne and ensuring her reign was given adequate council,” Mace said. Ned could see what he was getting at. It seemed everyone wanted an alliance sealed in blood and a seat on the small council. _Who am I to judge, though. Its how I wound up with Cat. And if it works out, the it would almost ensure Lyarra was crowned._ “I must speak with my wife on the matter, but I believe we can come to an arrangement on the marriage. As for any...council, you may provide. I will speak with Lord Arryn, he is still functioning as Hand.” Mace nodded understanding, or at least Ned thought Mace understood. “Very good. I will leave you to your work, then. Good day Lord Stark.” “Good day, Lord Tyrell,” Ned said standing and shaking the man’s hand again.

He needed time to think, clear his head, and consider his options before talking to Cat about them. No doubt his wife would have concerns. Why, before they left for King’s Landing, she objected to Bran witnessing his first execution. It was the same trip where they found the Direwolf pups that his children now care for. At the same time, when he had these issues he would go to Catelyn and solve them together. She was the best person for these types of situations. _I may as well get this over with,_ he thought as he stood up and went to find his wife.

A few moments later he found his wife having tea with her brother Edmure and his betrothed, Asha Greyjoy. “Lord Stark, it’s an honor to meet you,” said the young woman. She was not pretty, but not ugly either. She also had the look of a Ironborn, strong, proud, and always ready to fight. Ned still couldn’t believe they would be wed soon, but wasn’t going to object. “Edmure, my lady, I need a few moments with my wife,” Ned said gently. “Of course, Ned, I will see you later. Asha, my dear, shall we go see what trouble we can find at the ports?” Ned watched a fierce smile flash across Asha’s face as she lept out of her chair and headed for the door without so much as a goodbye.

“What is it my love,” Catelyn asked. Looking at her, he realized how much he loved her and how grateful he was to have her. “I’ve had two rather interesting meetings and I wanted to talk them over with you,” Ned said quietly. “Nothing has been decided, but after some reflection, I am in favor of both decisions we have to make.” Catelyn looked at him in a rather confused fashion. “Of course, what are these decisions,” Catelyn asked as Ned sat down next to her.

“We have had offers of betrothal for Arya and Robb,” Ned said matter of factly. “What,” Catelyn asked, clearly shocked, “From who? You surely did not agree.” Ned shook his head. “The Martells suggests a pair for Trystane, Doran’s youngest, to Arya and Mace Tyrell suggested his daughter for Robb. As I said, I didn’t agree to anything. I said I had to speak with you about it, but like I also said, after thinking about it on my own, I am in favor.” Catelyn now shook her head and stood up walking away, “Arya is too young to be married and to a Martell! She will be half a world away from us. And a Tyrell! You would marry your heir to a Tyrell!” 

Ned stood up and embraced her. Holding her for a moment until she calmed. “Allow me to explain,” Ned said as he held her. He felt her nod and told her about the meetings with Oberyn Martell and Mace Tyrell, how they wanted marriage alliance in exchange for support. “Arya would not be married for many years, and Trystane would come to Winterfell with us. If, after Arya has flowered, she rejects him then he would return home, alone. Arya isn’t born to be a lady, my love. She is more my sister than you or Sansa. In Dorne she would be accepted for who she was. You’ve seen her when the Sand Snakes have visited Rhaenys. She’d follow them around all day.” “And Robb, what of him,” Catelyn asked. “Based on last night it seems Robb and Margaery have already expressed interest in each other.” 

Catelyn finally released him and wiped her eyes. “You’re right. It would be beneficial to us and to Lyarra. But, have you thought of the consequences?” Ned hadn’t. “No, I hadn’t.” Catelyn gave a weak smile before returning to the table. “This will be the second generation of future liege lord to marry outside of the North. Even worse, you are taking another of our children from the Northern lords. There may be...grumbling.” His wife was right. His bannerman were loyal, but if he and his family kept ignoring them how long would that last? “Very well, what do you suggest,” Ned asked already having some ideas, but want Cat’s thoughts. “Well, if you are dead set on these betrothals you should announce betrothals to Northern lords at the same time.” Ned was shocked by Catelyn’s forthrightness. “I thought you were against such things right now,” Ned said. “I am, but you are right, it’s better for the family. The Pack can only grow stronger.” Ned smiled at Catelyn’s reference. “Wyman Manderly has a pair of daughters, one of them would make a good match for Bran. Sansa, though, I don’t know what to do with her, and Rickon is too young.” Catelyn nodded. “True, but what of Benjen’s children. He has two sons and three daughters. Surely Benjen would agree.” Ned noted Catelyn didn’t even mention Jon.

“You’re right, Cregan and Rodrick are old enough for betrothals, as is Jonelle,” Ned said discussing Benjen’s children with his wife, Dacey Mormont. Catelyn nodded in agreement. “What about Cregan and Alys Karstark? And Cley Cerwyn for Jonelle, though it may get confusing with his sister.” Ned smiled. That left only Rodrick. “Jeyne Poole might be good for Rodrick. Vayon is a good man, it would be good to reward him. We could even offer to assist with the dowery,” Ned said with some inspiration, to which Cat nodded.  
Now all that was left was to convince Benjen and tell the children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been sidetracked with other projects...and work...work sucks.
> 
> Also, I'm purposefully keeping Sansa's future up in the air. I honestly haven't decided who she will end up with or where she will go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Robb I**

“Good, again,” Robb heard Ser Rodrick, Winterfell’s Master-at-arms announced as the bout ended. Robb heaved a breath as he reset his feet and raised his training sword. Across the yard, Robb’s cousin Cregan did likewise. They had grown up together, Cregan, Jon, and he. Robb was the best of them on horseback and, when they were younger, coming up with adventures for them to embark on. Jon could beat both Cregan and Robb with the sword, but remained quiet and reserved. Cregan Stark, heir to Motte Cailin and the Stark family there, had wolf’s blood in him. He had his father’s dark hair and blue eyes, his mother’s, Dacey Mormont, size, and a fiery temper. It made him a fierce fighter, but his weakness was his rage. Robb beat him almost all the time simply by out thinking him. Cregan was a berserker, a terror on the battlefield, but had little mind for strategy.

The mock fight commenced as Cregan stormed Robb, attempting to use his height and strength against Robb. Robb got his sword up, but was still pushed back by the brute force of the attack. Robb parrying the attack and redirecting the force upward, before landing a hit to Cregan’s chest with his elbow. Robb heard Cregan grunt as the air was knocked out of him. Robb used it as an opportunity to bring his sword back around, but Cregan was too fast and blocked the blow.

The match continued like that, attacks and counter-attacks until, in the middle of the match, Robb heard, and then saw, three chargers enter the training ground nearly running down numerous people as they entered. Robb and Cregan immediately ceased the exercise as the horses came to a stop a short distance from them. Robb recognized two of the riders immediately.

Tybolt Lannister wore fine riding leathers, had a sword strapped to his hip, and a smirk on his face. To his left sat Joffrey Baratheon with his mother’s golden hair and his father’s dark blue eyes. Robb noted that he was large for his thirteen years of life, with broad shoulders and thin lips. He seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face and eyes that had a penchant for violence. He had a sword on his waist as well, Robb saw. With them was a large man in full armor, whose face was covered by a helmet in the shape of a snarling dog. When the man lifted the helm, Robb wished he had left it down. The man’s face was horribly burned, leaving him disfigured and scarred.

“What do you want Lannister,” Cregan shouted, “come to get beat by my cousin again?”

Robb glanced at Cregan, wishing he hadn’t said that.

“Ha! Your cousins acts showed him for the craven he is, so much for Northern honor. If I had behaved that way my father would have beat me senseless,” Joffrey shouted back.

Tybolt sneered looking at the wooden training swords, “I don’t play children’s games. When I train, I use real steel. I think it’s cute you boys do, though.”

“We’ll show you who is a child,” Robb said as he advanced, a half step in front of Cregan, Grey Wind appearing at his side.

Before they could get more than a few steps they were grabbed by Ser Rodrick.

“Aw, it seems your keeper won’t let you come out to play boys. Come find us when you’re old enough to fight like men. Come on,” Tybolt shouted before turning his horse and leaving.

Joffrey lingered for another moment snarling, “I look forward to being King one day, when I am I’m going to bring an army north and teach you the discipline you people clearly need.”

“The North remembers, you little shit,” Robb replied before letting out of string of curses as Joffrey turned and left, joined by the burned man.

“Why did you stop us,” Robb shouted at Ser Rodrick as soon as they left.

“They dishonor us, our house, our home.”

“Aye, Robb’s right Ser. Now, they think us craven.”

Ser Rodrick just shook his head, “better to be thought a craven than rush into a battle you won’t win.”

“Bah! Those blonde bastards would have turned tail and ran home like scalded dogs.” Rodrick glared at Robb’s cousin.

“No, they wouldn’t, they came to provoke you and then kill you and you almost charged them with nothing more than wood, while they had steel.”

Cregan was just about to argue with the sergeant-at-arms, but Robb cut him off. “He’s right, cousin. We have to be smarter next time.” Cregan opened his mouth, as if to fight, but thought better of it and closed his mouth. “Good, now I suggest we-” Ser Rodrick was saying when one of Robb’s father’s servants appeared.

“Yes,” Ser Rodrick said with more than a little irritation.

“I’m sorry for the interruption Ser Rodrick, but Lord Stark has requested the presence of his son and nephew in his solar at once.”

Robb and Cregan looked at each other with confusion on their faces. “Very well, go boys. When you’re done with Lord Stark, you will return and clean up. Is that understood?” Both boys nodded and went with the servant.

It was a short walk from the training yard to the Solar, however, when they got there, they realized they weren’t alone. Robb’s father was standing behind a table looking down at a map, while his mother was sitting next to the same table. In the corner Robb’s uncle, Cregan’s father, seemed to be brooding. Not far from them, Uncle Benjen’s wife was tending to her other children and across the room Sansa, Arya, and Bran sat on a couch quietly. All the adults seemed to have pensive looks on their faces, while the children all seemed confused as Robb and Cregan.

“Boys, good. Thank you for coming,” Robb’s father said looking up from the table.

“I’ve had a busy morning and not only will it effect the realm, but many of you as well.” It became clear to Robb that he was speaking to more than just Robb and Cregan.

“What is it father,” Robb asked. “We’ve received two betrothal offers. As a result, I’ve arranged betrothals for some of the rest of you.”

The air left the room in an instant. Robb felt a cold sweat form on his brow. He knew this day would come eventually, he was heir to Winterfell and the North. It would be his duty to marry and have children. But there was a difference between knowing it was coming and having it staring you in the face.

“Robb,” his father said. The silence between words seemed to stretch from King’s Landing to Winterfell. “Mace Tyrell came to me, to thank you for your actions last night at the feast. It seems, while it could have been handled better in my opinion, he thinks you acted very bravely. WIth your consent you’ll be married to Margaery Tyrell.” Robb sighed in relief. Gods be good, she is beautiful. “Yes father. I will do my duty,” Robb replied, not quite restraining his joy. “Lucky bastard,” Cregan whispered with a half smile.

“Cregan,” Robb’s uncle Benjen said suddenly. Robb watched the color leave his face and snickered. “Your uncle has spoken with Lord Karstark. He has agreed to a match with you and his daughter Alys.” Cregan slowly nodded. She wasn’t the beauty that Margaery was, but she was still pleasing to the eye. _She will make a good Lady of Motte Cailin_ , Robb thought. Robb’s uncle wasn’t finished, though. “Rodrick,” he said turning to his younger son. “You will be married to Jeyne Poole in a few years.” Rodrick, who looked more like his mother than his father, nodded. “Yes father.”

Robb’s father nodded. “Bran.”

Robb watched his younger brother furrow his brow. Robb knew that his brother wanted to be Kingsguard not a husband. “You will marry Wylla Manderly, Lord Manderly’s youngest granddaughter. The marriage will occur in five years. When we return to the North you will travel to White Harbor to serve as Page and then Squire for Lord Manderly. I mean to give you repair Wolf’s Den and give it to you as a Keep.”

Robb’s father paused and turned to Rodrick, who was still thinking. “I mean to give you Queenscrown as a Keep. Both will be repaired.” The boys both nodded, still coming to grips with their futures.

Then Uncle Benjen spoke again, “Jonelle, my sweet daughter.” Robb’s cousin, who was Bran’s age and looked like a younger version of her mother, straightened every so slightly at hearing her name. “Cleo Cerwyn is the heir to Castle Cerwyn. He is a little older than you, but a good young man. I’ve spoken with his father, we have agreed for him to come to Motte Cailin upon our return. If you agree, you will be wed in a few years.”

Robb saw his aunt’s face tighten. Jonelle had a free spirit, not to the level of Arya, but she was still willful. “Yes, father. I will meet this boy, but I don’t promise I will agree.”

The adults laughed, “Starks bread strong women,” Robb’s mother said amidst the chuckling.

“Very well, my dear,” Robb’s father said. There was a long pause before Robb’s father spoke again.

“There is one more betrothal we need to speak of.” Robb watched as the rest of the children began looking at each other. “Arya,” father said. “NO,” Arya shouted standing. “I don’t want to be a lady! I don’t have to be locked in a tower to have babies. Sansa does, let her marry whoever you want me to.” Robb’s father, to his credit, remained calm. “This marriage will not suit Sansa.” Now everyone looked quietly. “Prince Oberyn came to see me. He believes, and your mother and I believe, you would do well in Dorne. Prince Trystane and you are close in age. He will come North with us and live at Winterfell for a few years. At the end of those few years, if you agree, you will be married. If not, he will return to Dorne alone.” Robb could see Arya’s mind working. “Fine, let the stupid boy come to Winterfell. I won’t marry him.” Robb’s father nodded, “Mayhaps, in the meantime though, Prince Oberyn and I have thought to allow you to tutor under the Prince’s daughters.” Arya’s head cocked to the side. Robb had spent time with Oberyn’s daughters when they were at Winterfell. They were fierce, strong, warriors and Robb could see what his father was doing. “You mean, the Sand Snakes? What would they,” Arya began to say then realized what her father was saying. “You would allow them to teach me to fight?” Robb’s father nodded slowly, while his mother looked clearly distressed. “Indeed, you are your aunt Lyanna reborn, I can’t deny this anymore. Besides, your aunt Dacey is one of the best fighters in the North.” Robb noticed his aunt smile at the compliment. “Fine, I suppose I could meet this boy at least,” Arya said, acquiescing. Everyone in the room laughed.

“Wait, what about me,” Sansa asked as the laughter died, concern on her face. “My dear Sansa, we will find you a worthy husband. Your brother, Robb and sister were surprise offers. When they came about, I had to act quickly for everyone else and there were no Northmen I thought worthy of you.” Sansa nodded, but she still seemed disappointed. _Poor girl, she is the only one in the room who probably wanted to be married._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Mainly apathy and lack of inspiration, but I am back...for now.


End file.
